


Phoenix Rising

by shakinbacon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Game of Thrones Spoilers, mentioned past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakinbacon/pseuds/shakinbacon
Summary: A sort of fix-it fic that came to me in the throws of despair and mourning post S8 E5. Inspired by some thoughts seen on tumblr by an anonymous poster regarding the Lord of Light. Seriously what has been the point over the last few years? So maybe there's still a chance but I'm not holding out hope for any redeeming qualities from the final episode of Game of Thrones.  To the fiction!





	Phoenix Rising

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic that I have shared publicly. I just really needed to get this out and maybe you need it too. Let me know what you think! I have more brewing maybe in continuation from this sort of one-shot. We'll see if I can make it happen!

"Fucking die!" he yelled as he forced the knife through the monster's eye, it should have been a killing blow, so too the broadsword through the stomach. Gregore had always been a monster, but this was something else. As the monster pressed with all of his might into his eye sockets, screaming out in pain he somehow managed to string the words together in his mind, "Not like this, it has to be over," pulling all the strength he had left to make some kind of a move. He was a hard fucker to kill but he was damned if he would leave the world like this and let the monster survive. Gasping for air and to remain conscious, in a split-second he knew, while he could still make it, he could take him over the edge.

Screaming in pain but also as a way to move his failing body, he propelled himself forward with all of his remaining strength towards the monster. They burst through the collapsing stone, free-falling in slow motion into the flames overtaking the Red Keep below. Maybe it was over in seconds but it seemed to last a lifetime. Locked in an eternal struggle to battle his brother, going to death the way he had in life. It didn't take long for his thoughts to wander to the Little Bird, remembering the way the candles in the Great Hall had flickered catching her flaming hair. She had looked him straight in the eyes with confidence and seen right through his facade. He couldn't save her from the things that hurt her but at least he knew she was safe for now in Winterfell. He was satisfied in the end, that he convinced the wolf pup, Arya, to give up her list and flee. She would make it out and could join her sister, where they belonged in the North. Now, Arya could be with Gendry, they both lived, they both wanted each other. While in his life he had never truly known love, only revulsion, knowing what they had all survived he would want to be with the person that wanted him. Maybe it meant that the vision he saw in the flames could really come to pass.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the flames rising and thought more on what he saw. He had never spent time looking into flames, how could he, but that night in that hovel he couldn't look away. He saw the dead army and understood what it meant, but he saw more. He had realized it had to be a scene much later, they would survive the long night at least, but he hadn't really processed it, there hadn't been the time. He knew the courtyard at Winterfell, where else could it be and he had known her anywhere. The flames showed him Sansa, Lady of Winterfell, she was almost unrecognizable to him having been so long since that night he fled King's Landing, but his heart would know her anywhere. She had been standing in the courtyard watching proudly as a young boy practiced sword play. Then he noticed the sparring partner was Arya, giving criticism and praise to the boy with dark hair. If he had had the strength to chuckle, thinking on it now, he wondered if the young boy could be her son. He was very young and dark haired, he could favor the blacksmith. He rolled the memory over in his mind, returning to the Little Bird, finding a detail he had missed. He remembered now, while she stood regally watching the exercise, she clutched something close to her fur collar, a swaddled bairn, with dark hair. He wondered what lord they would force on her now when the dust settled, she didn't look mistreated, and he took comfort in that. 

Something inside him stirred, returning to the vision of the dead, the mountain like an arrowhead. He had seen them in the flames but they were not just a vision of what was coming, they were his vision, his future when he went beyond the Wall, before he even knew he would. He didn't believe in gods or lords of light but couldn't explain how he had seen the future in the flames. The vision of what came to pass on that icy lake, was his true sight. What of the vision of the Starks and their young pups, had he seen the future? How could he ever see that come to pass?

It was all over now. He could barely take in a breath as the heat and the brightness of the flames swallowed his careening body, still grasping to the boulder that once was a man, ensuring it was final. If there was a fucking Lord of Light, now would be a good time to make a believer out of him. Then everything went black.

 

.....

 

But the Lord of Light was not finished with Sandor Clegane.


End file.
